


Safe & Sound

by CrownPrincessMoon



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alice is an angel, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Badass Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Badass North (Detroit: Become Human), Canon-Typical Violence, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), F/F, F/M, Father Figures, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Good Parent Connor, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Jericho (Detroit: Become Human), Jericho Crew (Detroit: Become Human) as Family, Jericho kind of mean to start with, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pacifist Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Protective Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Protective Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Todd is a horrible, can you really free a race of people in one week?, i don't think so, kara doesn't exist but I still love her 'cause she's a badass, terrible person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-04 00:58:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15830487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrownPrincessMoon/pseuds/CrownPrincessMoon
Summary: Connor is a machine designed to accomplish a task.Specifically the task of hunting deviants, and finding their leader, Markus.Taking down the Red Ice drug operation in Detroit was nothing more than an inconsequential mission meant to improve his and CyberLife's standing with the public before returning to his preordained objective....But then he met a little girl with big, sad, brown eyes the color of melted chocolate, and everything changed.New Objective:PROTECT ALICE





	1. Lightning Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Home Is a Person, Not a Place](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15799230) by [oh_heccity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_heccity/pseuds/oh_heccity). 



> I was inspired by another work and decided to do my take on this concept! (I'd totally check it out, btw!)  
> Anywho, this will probably be slower to update than _Androids and Men_ but I'd still like to see how far I can take it. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

_Just close your eyes, the sun is going down_  
_You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now_  
_Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound_

* * *

 

Alice didn't like storms.

The thought flittered across her mind, unbidden, as purple lightning cracked across the sky and she curled in on herself a little tighter, held Fox a little tighter.

Storms were bad, she thought as thunder rolled through the clouds like a giant stomping through the heavens, and Alice clenched her teeth.  
She pressed her cheek against the cool, glass window, watched as raindrops became dots on cracked pavement and trickled down the street into the storm drain.

The house was quiet without Daddy home and Alice had never felt more at ease, even as another peal of thunder shook the panels on the roof. She closed her eyes and tried as she had done so many times before, to imagine a world where she didn't feel different.  
A world where the kids at the park didn't avoid her when she came out to play or adults paid attention when she talked to them instead of smiling those smiles that never reached their eyes.

A world where her Daddy didn't hit her.

A world where he loved her.

A world where he would disappear and never come back, although Alice wasn't sure how she would feel if that version of her fantasies came to pass.

More lightning, more thunder, and... _something else_ : the purr of an old engine that made her breath catch in her throat.

He was back.

She watched as his truck came up the street and sputtered to a halt in front of the house, climbing halfway onto the sidewalk. Daddy stepped out from the driver's side and came around the front, gesturing towards someone in the car. A moment later, the passenger side of the door opened and a man stepped out, a glowing blue band visible around his right jacket sleeve. He turned his head toward the window and Alice quickly ducked out of view.

She scrambled off the bay window and ran up the first few steps before settling down on the fourth. The front lock jiggled and Alice squeezed Fox so tight she was sure he couldn't breathe. She felt like _she_ couldn't breathe.  
Alice hadn't done anything bad, she didn't think. Nothing that would warrant a punishment, but it was hard to be sure with Daddy. His moods changed just as quick as the lightning bolts flickering in and out of the sky, and maybe he was mad at her for not finishing her breakfast earlier or leaving her crayons on her bedroom floor _or_ –

The door suddenly swung open, hitting the wall behind it with a thud, and Alice barely stifled her shriek as she jerked back. It took her a moment to recognize the _thumpity-thump_ , _thumpity-thump_ of her own heartbeat and when she did she exhaled shakily.  
She looked around the corner and... _oh_. There was the man who was with him outside.  
She peered through the railings of the staircase, trying to catch a glimpse of the visitor.

" _Alice!_ " Daddy roared, "Where are you?"

She made no move to reply. Sometimes silence was the best option. She couldn't say the wrong thing if she was quiet. She couldn't get hurt.

" _Stupid brat_ ," She heard him grumble as he shed his jacket and hung it on the coat hanger, "Oh, there you are."

Her eyes stung with unshed tears at the barb but she quickly blinked them away as she held Fox closer to her chest. Her daddy's visitor hadn't said anything yet, looking around the living room with slow, measured blinks.

"So, you cook dinner, clean, do the laundry, take care of Alice, make sure she does her schoolwork. All that shit, all right?" Daddy addressed the other man with a scowl.

"Yes, Todd."

"This place has been like this for two weeks, so get to it. And don't fuckin' bother me."

"Yes, Todd."

Alice's ears perked up at the man's voice. It was quieter compared to her daddy's—softer, _gentler_ in an odd, _mechanical_ sort of way. She risked another glance and finally saw him in his entirety.

He looked younger than her daddy but obviously older than her—around the age of the parents, she saw with young children at the park. His hair was a glossy shade of brown pulled away from his forehead with the exception of a couple stray strands. His eyes were brown too, much like her own were. He wore all white, with the exception of his jacket which was also black and blue on the back.  
The characters, _AX700_ underlined the larger letters in white that read **CONNOR**.

The man— _Connor_ —turned his head slowly to look at her and she held Fox tighter.  
Their eyes locked and Alice's darted to the glowing circle on the right side of his temple, widening in surprise.

He was an android. He was like _her_ , the brown-haired woman who cared for until–Until Daddy  _broke_ her because–because...

She slowly tried to get up, using the stairs as leverage when her hand suddenly slipped. The stairs made a soft thud as she fell back and Alice held her breath in anticipation of a reprimand—be it physical or verbal.

" _Stop playing on those stairs, Alice!_ " Her daddy snapped from where he sat in front of the tv and she nodded even though he couldn't see her, standing once more, carefully, "And you! Get a move on! Get started downstairs, then go upstairs."

Connor looked away from her, expression as smooth as plastic, "Yes, Todd."

Alice didn't wait for him to walk away, turning around and running up the stairs until she reached the top, where she stopped to peer over the banister. She watched Connor begin to collect the trash that had accumulated over the past two weeks, tossing them easily into the trashcan in his hand, and couldn't help the new fantasy that began to form in her mind.

A world where she had a friend. Someone who _liked_ her.

Thunder growled outside and Alice tugged Fox closer.

 

A world where she wasn't afraid.


	2. New Mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> *Before we start, for all intents and purposes, Connor does not know that Alice is an android... _yet_.
> 
> Jan. 2019 Update: Please disregard the note above! ;)

**NOV** **15TH** , 2038   
**AM** 04:23:36

  
  
**CURRENT MISSION** : _Stop Southwest Red Ice Operation_  
  
**DELAYED MISSION** : _Stop Markus_  
  
**Main Objective** : _Infiltrate Todd Williams' Home_  
  
**Side Objective** : _Break Into CyberLife Warehouse_  
  
**Time Until Mission Completion** : _pending further information..._

 

* * *

  
1.04 seconds later and they would have been caught, Connor's system helpfully informs him as he ducks behind a yellow storage container. Above them a triangular drone flies past their location, flashing red, white, and blue, intermittently, and Connor presses close against the metal behind him  
  
" _Shit_ ," Hank swears, leaning heavily on his knees as he gasps for breath after narrowly evading the security drone, "This was a bad idea."  
  
Connor settles into a crouch next to him, running a quick diagnostic scan of his partner—  
  
_Elevated heart rate detected_  
_Risk level: 4.32%_  
_Risk level acceptable._  
  
Connor blinks the prognosis away and chooses one of the dialogue prompts that rises in its place.  
  
"I disagree, Lieutenant. This plan has a 97.2% chance of success, making it far more likely to succeed than anything the DPD has come up with in the past. And, if I remember correctly, you were in complete agreement with me."  
  
"Smug asshole," Hank grumbles as he shifts uncomfortably, "Hey, I forgot to ask at the debriefing. What's the other 3%?  
  
"The probability of failure," Connor explains, "Although, my cerebral processor cannot predict what may trigger such an outcome."  
  
"Eh," Hank scratches his head, fingers moving the dirty gray hair on to his face, and Connor resists the urge to reprimand him about his hygiene habits, "Maybe you'll do something to fuck it up."  
  
Hank means well—his words are not purposefully malicious, instead, holding a fondness that has Connor's core feeling warmer than usual, and a self-diagnostic test starts running itself automatically in the corner of his vision—but he's also not wrong.  
His last couple missions have all been failures compared to the results he used to bring in while working independently for CyberLife. The public is growing restless— _CyberLife_ is growing restless with his lack of progress concerning the deviants' movements and their leader, Markus.  
  
Amanda's disappointment is a palpable thing—it nips at the edge of his mind where she resides and dissects every decision he makes—whether or not he truly holds CyberLife's best interest at heart.  
It's why he's on this assignment with Hank instead of following the latest leads on the Stratford tower break-in. To re-establish ties between the public and CyberLife, according to Amanda's latest debriefing, and in order to do that, he needs to break into the large containment warehouse on the other end of the facility.  
  
Connor peers around the metal containment, activating his scanners.  
Time freezes as his optical units sweep across the area, noting points of risk— _the wide open spaces between the different containments, 87.7% chance of detection_ —and his main point of interest—the holding center for the androids scheduled to be shipped later that day to CyberLife stores throughout Detroit.  
  
_preconstruct route?_  
  
Connor accepts the prompt and watches as his cerebral processor runs multiple simulations across multiple pathways—more than half of which end with him and Hank being spotted by the security drone and their mission fails.  
  
An unacceptable outcome.  
  
"Any day now, Connor," Hank hisses, tightening his grip on his arm, "I think I see those drones comin' back around."  
  
"Found it." Connor announces quietly, "Follow me."  
  
They dart through, hiding strategically in the shadows until they reach the containment facility. His scanners locate the truck he's supposed to be on in the next 12.5 minutes and he gestures for the duffle bag in Hank's hand.  
  
"Here." He tosses it over and Connor catches it easily, dropping to the ground in a crouch as he unzips the duffle and pulls out the new uniform created by CyberLife specifically for this mission.  
  
"I'ma go keep watch," Hank informs him, and Connor nods in reply as he strips off his RK800 uniform—methodically removing his jacket, white button-up shirt, dark jeans, and black loafers in favor of the one from the duffle bag.  
  
"You decent?" Hank asks five minutes later.  
  
"Yes!" Connor replies, stashing his old uniform in the bag as Hank renters the building.  
  
" _Christ!_ " Hank exclaims when Connor rises once more, "You look–"  
  
"Different?" Connor supplies since it's the only adjective he can think of to describe himself at the moment.  
  
"–like shit." Hank answers instead, lips curling into a familiar smile and Connor feels the urge to smile back despite the lack of prompting from his social module, "That never changes, no matter what you wear. So, what's next?"  
  
"We find the AX400 that was ordered and replace it with me," Connor explains, placing his hand on the palm scanner of a truck. Lines of code rise in his vision as he interfaces with the machine, tricking its recognition program into thinking he is human. The back door slides out and up a second later, and Connor steps in, followed by Hank.  
  
"There," Connor locates after a quick scan, walking to the back of the truck. The AX400 stares blankly ahead as Connor unplugs her— _it, it, it is an **it**_ — from it's charging station.  
  
"Fuck, this feels weird," Hank voices as they lead her out of the truck, into a dimly lit corner, "Feels like we're kidnapping her or something."  
  
"It'll be fine here," Connor reassures, positioning her against the wall, "No one should find it until later in the day and everything will be well on schedule by then."  
  
"Good," Hank claps his hands together, swinging them slightly, "You ready?"  
  
"Always, Lieutenant."  
  
"Well then, good luck. And be careful, kid."  
  
"You too, Lieutenant."  
  
Hank places a hand on Connor's shoulder and squeezes gently, before letting his arm drop as he backs away. Finally, he turns around and jogs out of the facility, leaving Connor alone as he climbs into the AX400's charging station.

  
  
~~**Side Objective** : _Break Into CyberLife Warehouse_~~  
  
**New Objective** : _Wait Until Truck Deployment_  
  
**Time Until Mission Completion** : _pending further information..._

  
  
**AM** 09:28:46  
  
The CyberLife store is brimming with people—humans wanting to purchase the latest android for their homes, gardens, and children. AP700's guide them around, offering deals and promotions for products that will better their lives, and Connor thinks he should feel _something_ about that.  
About posing on a display stand while humans gauge his worth and comment on how life-like he looks, but he doesn't. Feel anything, that is.  
Machines don't _feel_ things, and regardless of his recent decisions and flawed judgment calls, that is all Connor is: a machine. Or in this case, a machine on a mission.  
  
The AX700 uniform he wears is an inverted image of his usual RK800 detective uniform—white where it was once black, and black where it was once white. His jacket now reads AX700, solidifying his disguise as a prototype housekeeping model.  
  
Now, all he has to do is wait.

* * *

  
  
**NOV** **08TH** , 2038  
**PM** 03:46:32  
  
The plan had come together slowly.  
  
In light of the sudden surge of deviant activity, many issues had been pushed to the side or forgotten by the DPD. One of which was the narcotic, Red Ice—something Captain Fowler could no longer ignore after a 28.3% spike in narcotic-induced deaths in Southwest Detroit was mentioned during the monthly briefing.  
  
"Well, shit," Chris had said into the silence following the report, "We should probably do something about that."  
  
Connor watched Hank out of the corner of his eye—watched the older detective's hands curl into fists and his eyes darken with memories left better forgotten. Connor found himself, inexplicably, swinging his chair in a rotation of -13°, close enough that he could nudge Hank's ankle with the toe of his shoe.  
_Why?_ , the logistical part of his cerebral processor asked after the action had been completed. It served no purpose, it was a waste of muscle movement, it was unnecessary and–  
Hank glanced at him, and his face was so easy to read—sad, and angry, and _so, so sad_ —but there was something else too. Something that Connor was distracted from analyzing when Hank pressed his ankle into the toe of his shoe, briefly meeting his eyes, before swiveling back around to face the Captain.  
  
Connor blinked, feeling as if he had missed something incredibly important but before he could dwell on it, his systems prompted him to listen to the Captain was in the middle of speaking.  
  
"...many people on this deviants business. Those of my men who aren't patrolling CyberLife warehouses are keeping close eyes on all the news stations in case of another break-in."  
  
"Can't we just employ more drones in the area?" Detective Reed asked lazily, tracing the rim of his coffee cup like he had better things to do—Connor highly doubted that.  
  
Captain Fowler shook his head, "Not if they've memorized the routes and patrol times. They'd have worked around it by now."  
  
"Then let's get in there," Hank finally contributed, arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair, "Lock some, motherfuckers, up. Get the task force back together."  
  
"That would be unwise, Lieutenant," Connor felt the need to warn— _but why? It shouldn't concern him he was sent to hunt deviants not dismantle a drug ring why does it even matter_ —he continued, "My cerebral processor predicts a 27.2% chance in which this course of action is successful."  
  
Gavin scoffed loudly, visibly rolling his eyes, "No one asked you, _android_."  
  
Connor frowned in his direction. Why was that voiced as an insult?—Connor _was_ an android.  
  
"Shut it, Gavin," Hank swiveled his chair towards Connor, gaze appraising and curiously, "Tell me, Connor. If you were going to take down a drug ring, which plan would have the highest probability or whatever kind of bullshit, for success."  
  
"Oh, _come on_ –" Gavin began, only to fall silent when Fowler raised his hand.  
  
"Now, hold on, Gavin. I'd like to hear what Connor thinks."  
  
All eyes in the room fell to him and Connor felt the unnecessary urge to clear his throat. Instead, he placed his hand on the conference table, letting his skin pull back to reveal the pearly white plastic that made up his hand.  
  
"Freak." He heard Gavin mutter mutinously, and Hank scowled at him.  
  
A holographic screen rose from the blue surface,  
  
"Calculating all possible solutions and outcomes."  
  
The last word had barely left his mouth when thousands of lines of text and numbers appeared on the screen, detailing numerous possible operations and their varying chances of success.  
  
"Holy fuck," he heard someone whisper.  
  
Connor narrowed his eyes, scanning...scanning...scanning...  
  
Found it.  
  
"Plan with the highest probability of success detected: 97.2%"  
  
"Damn." Hank whistled appreciatively.  
  
"All right, Connor," Captain Fowler leaned back in his chair, twirling his pen between his fingers, "Lay it on us."  
  
Connor frowned, knew his LED was currently flickering yellow as he tried to process the phrase. How exactly did you lay an _idea_ —a non-tangible notion that only existed in the mind until spoken out loud—on someone, exactly?  
  
Hank sighed, but it was fonder than annoyance, softer around the edges as he explained, "He means, explain it to us, Connor."  
  
"Oh," he rose from his seat, smoothing down his jacket as he made his way to the front of the room, "Of course."  
  
Connor introduced his proposal in 38.9 minutes—the ideal amount of time to present the main objectives of the mission, obstacles they may encounter and how to surpass them, and finally, the estimated amount of time it would take to accomplish a successful operation, all the while bringing up visual aids on the holographic table.  
  
"We'd have to ask CyberLife for permission, of course." Connor concluded, folding his hands behind his back, "Officially, I am only intended for use in matters involving deviant affairs."  
  
Gavin studied the plan with a critical eye for all of three seconds before allowing a sneer to creep onto his face. "Sounds stupid. Right, Captain?"  
  
Captain Fowler said nothing, eyes darting between the different holo-screens before allowing his gaze to settle on Connor, thoughtfully.  
  
"What are the chances, CyberLife goes along with this? Us using you for a separate assignment?"  
  
" _Wha–?_ " Gavin spluttered, turning to the captain with an astounded expression, "You can't seriously be considering letting this plastic pric–"  
  
"That's enough, Gavin," Fowler interrupted firmly, frowning, "That's enough."  
  
Detective Reed fell silent then, an angry red flush crawling up and across his neck and face as he directed a murderous glare in Connor's direction as if his chastisement was _his_ fault instead of his own.  
  
"Well, Connor?" Fowler pressed.  
  
"There is a 55.4% chance that CyberLife will authorize me for use during this operation, Captain."  
  
Captain Fowler only hummed in reply, clicking his pen repeatedly.  
  
Finally, "Hank? What do you think?"  
  
The lieutenant looked surprised to be addressed, busy grinning at the petulant look on Gavin's face, but quickly shifted his expression into one of indifference, shrugging slightly.  
  
"It can't hurt to try, right? Keep some poor bastards from offing themselves."  
  
Captain Fowler nodded his agreement, finally clicking his pen closed, "Ok, then, it's settled."  
  
He looked at Connor, "I'll call CyberLife."

* * *

 

**NOV 15TH** , 2038  
**AM** 09:53:36  
  
“Come one, Zoe. Let's go.”  
  
Connor watches as a woman, the young child's mother, he presumes, takes her hand and pulls her away. More people amble by, lead by AP700s to other sections of the store, and Connor feels the uncontrollable urge to reach into his pocket and pull out his coin if only to let it dance along his knuckles for just a second. He isn't used to standing still for so long, and his body buzzes with unused energy.  
  
25.54 minutes later and the target still hasn't come into the store and...wait.  
  
A man has just walked in—7.5 meters away, near the entrance store, and as he leans heavily against the counter, Connor quickly runs him through his database.  
  
_Todd Williams,_  
_September 21, 1995_  
_43 years old, unemployed_  
_Arrest Record: Aggravated Assault, Multiple Counts of Drug Possession_  
  
Target acquired.  
  
A human salesman comes to the desk, looking through some papers in his hands before getting out from around the counter to approach his display stand with Todd.  
Connor stares forward, keeping his expression neutrally pleasant.  
  
“There it is.” The salesman says looking up at him. “Your new AX series housekeeping android.”  
  
"This–This isn't what I ordered," Todd growls, his lips turning up into a confused sneer, "I ordered the AX400."  
  
The salesman glances back at Todd then peers up again at Connor, touching the side of his glasses briefly.  
  
"Yeah...Now that you've mentioned it, I've never seen a male android in the AX series. Certainly, not an AX700."  
  
"So, where the hell is my android?" Todd demands, and the salesman raises his hands, placating.  
  
"It's all good, sir. Let me just make a few calls to CyberLife, and we clear up whatever mistake has been made, all right?"  
  
" _Whatever_."  
  
The salesman turns around and walks back towards his desk, leaving Connor alone to analyze Todd. The man has obviously let himself go, dark brown hair receding and greasy, falling to his shoulders in lanky strands. He wears a dark olive jacket over a green cardigan and jeans with stains on them–beer, if Connor's scanners are to be believed, which they are.  
Most importantly, Todd bears the signs of a frequent Red Ice user–sallow skin, an uneven gait, and needle scars in his arm if his constant grabbing of it meant anything.  
  
A perfect candidate for the operation, just as Connor had informed the DPD.  
  
Connor reaches out with his mind, connecting with the phone in the salesman's hand as he initiates the next part of the operation, informing the man of the shipping mistake made in the voice of an ST300 android. He does this all while keeping his LED a steady blue, staring vacantly ahead.  
  
The salesman returns a moment later with a sheepish smile.  
  
"There seems to be some kind of mix-up regarding your order, sir. This is the AX700, a prototype housekeeping android. He's not supposed to be released until January of next year."  
  
"The fuck am I supposed to do then?" Todd sneers, "Do you know how much I _paid_ for that thing?"  
  
"It's all good, sir," the salesman reassures, holding out an electronic clipboard, "You'll be allowed to take this one and enjoy all the latest features until your AX400 can be found."  
  
Todd looked at Connor appraisingly, taking a couple steps forward, "How long would it take?"  
  
"A couple of days, maybe? A week at the most, sir."  
  
"Fine," Todd finally agrees, looking away from Connor to the salesman, "Let me see that."  
  
Connor watches as he signs the electronic form, turning back towards the stand once he's done.  
  
"Okay," the salesman smiles, "Have you thought of a name, yet?"  
  
"I don't care." Todd rumbles, sending the salesman an annoyed look.  
  
The man clears his throat, lightly–awkwardky. "Right, then."  
  
He takes a step forward.  
  
"AX700, register your default name."  
  
"Connor," He says after six hours of keeping silent in the back of the CyberLife Truck and then in the store, "My name is Connor."  
  
∆∆∆  
  
Todd signs some more things–warantees, guarantees, privacy contracts concerning the development of the "new" AX700—and Connor watches, all the while. Finally, Todd makes his way out of the shop, Connor following him from behind to his car–an old 2019 Chevrolet LUV truck that still ran on standardized gasoline, Connor's vision reads.  
He gets into the passenger seat while Todd enters in from the driver's side, settling in and sticking the key into the ignition.  
  
As he drives, Connor looks out the window, something he is rarely able to do when he's on a case with Hank. His programming doesn't allow him to indulge in such trivial behavior. Even now–watching buildings slide in and out of view, humans walking down sidewalks and their androids in temporary parking stations–statistics, calculations, and random safety codes rise in his line of vision as they drive to Todd's homes.  
  
An hour and a half later, and the landscape has changed dramatically—from big buildings and the geometric-wonders of skyscrapers to more neglected houses that seem to not have been up to code for the last decade or so. So many building violation notices materialize in front of him that Connor decides to temporarily shut down that part of his system.  
  
Todd rolls up to one of those old, broken-down, violation-ridden houses, parking over the space where the sidewalk met the street, and if Connor wasn't undercover right now, he would have to give him a parking ticket.

Overhead the sky rumbles, dark gray clouds building in frequency.  
  
Todd gets out from the car, ordering, "Follow me," as he slams the door shut with a thud. Connor opens his own door and steps out on to a pavement riddled with cracks and an uneven surface, closing it firmly behind him as he turns to survey the house.  
  
Victorian. Built in 2016. Several windows scattered throughout the household at different points—there's a bay window on the first floor. White paint peeling off the exterior and–  
  
Something moves.  
  
Connor's optical units catch a flash of purple behind the curtains of the bay window, and he narrows in on it, noticing the slight sway of the fabric.  
  
_Strange_.  
  
"You comin' or what?" Todd calls down from the porch and Connor looks away.  
  
"Yes, Todd." He answers and walks up the steps to join him.  
  
Todd opens the front door with 2.4x more force than necessary, sending the wooden door slamming into the wall behind it. Connor follows him in, closing the door behind him more gently.  
  
" _Alice!_ " Todd rumbles, taking a few steps into the house and looking around, "Where are you?"  
  
Alice? Who was Alice?  
  
" _Stupid brat_ ," He hears Todd mutter angrily underneath his breath as he removes his jacket and hangs it up, "Oh, there you are."  
  
Connor has yet to look at this ' _Alice_ ', busy running a quick scan of his environment as he is programmed to do. There seems to be no immediate danger, nothing that would complicate his mission in any way, and there are several points of escape throughout the house. When he's satisfied with what he's learned, he redirects his attention to Todd who is currently speaking.  
  
"...laundry, take care of Alice, make sure she does her schoolwork. All that shit, all right?"  
  
"Yes, Todd."  
  
"This place has been like this for two weeks, so get to it. And don't fuckin' bother me."  
  
"Yes, Todd." He allows a small smile to grace his features, hoping to soothe the man's abrasiveness as he speaks but Todd just looks annoyed by his presence, stalking off to the living room where he settles heavily in front of the t.v. and orders it on.  
  
With that, Connor finally turns his head toward the staircase where, unexpectedly, a little girl sits. A child with large brown eyes that regard him suspiciously, a wary set to her eyebrows that Connor doesn't really understand. She seems...scared, almost.  
  
An odd temperament for someone so young, Connor thinks.  
  
She visibly startles at the eye contact, using the hand behind her to rise from the stairs when she suddenly slips, landing on the steps with a hard _thud_. Connor finds himself wondering distantly if the abrupt contact hurt.  
  
"Stop playing on those stairs, Alice!" Todd spits venomously from where he sits spread out on the couch, and the child nods even though her father is physically unable to see her from where he is positioned on the couch. Even though that wasn't what had occurred, and Connor wonders why she doesn't correct him.  
  
"And you! Get a move on! Get started downstairs, then go upstairs."  
  
Connor looks away from her–he has a mission to accomplish and the addition of a child should in no way alter the probability of success.  
  
"Yes, Todd."  
  
He hears Alice scramble up the stairs but pays no heed to her, walking into the kitchen area where trash has accumulated on the counters and dirty dishes in the sinks. Connor is no housekeeping android but it takes little to no time to download their protocols, and he gets to work.  
  
He grabs the trashcan and starts picking up the empty beer bottles, pizza boxes, and Chinese takeout containers all scattered throughout the first floor. Oddly enough, it reminds him of Hank's own home. Connor clears the kitchen and bar counter before going into the living room to collect the things that have piled up on the coffee table in front of Todd.  
  
After, he goes back to collect both the garbage bags and take them out. He passes a little table on his way to the door and pauses briefly, scanning the multiple bank statements refusing credit and the warnings of late mortgage payments.  
Connor files that information away for further observation as he steps out and throws the trash away.  
  
He returns to the kitchen a moment later to clean the dishes and glasses piled up on the sink, only to find that the dishwasher isn't working when he attempts to interface. The part is ordered quickly before Connor sets the dinnerware back into the sink and grabs a sponge. He washes at a measured pace, setting them aside in the dryer rack before returning to the foamy water.  
  
He feels his sensors tingle, and he pauses in his ministrations to peer over his shoulder, only to find Alice staring at him with a stuffed toy dangling from her hand. Much like before, she leaves when they make eye contact and Connor puzzles over her behavior, briefly, before returning to the task at hand.  
  
“What are you doing?” He hears Todd ask from the dining as he sets the last dish to dry.  
  
Connor walks into the entrance way of the kitchen and observes silently as Todd slowly approaches Alice, who plays silently with her toy at the worn dining table.  
  
“I… I'm playing…” Alice replies, a small, crystalline voice filled with apprehension as she tugs on her toy's arms.  
  
“You're playing...” Todd starts to circle around the table. Not unlike a predator circling its prey, Connor realizes, “I know what you’re thinking… You think your dad's a lowlife… Huh?”  
  
Alice remains silent, staring ahead at her toy.  
  
“ _Fucking loser?_... Can't get a job, take care of his _family?_ Don't you think I _tried_ to make things work?” Todd adds, voice steadily rising in volume as he continues to circle the table, "But whatever I do, when someone comes along they just _FUCK IT ALL UP!_ ”  
  
He throws one of the chairs to the side in his fury, sending it against the wall with a thunk and Connor already knows a dent has been made. He orders the equipment necessary to fix it.  
  
“I know what you're thinking of me… _You hate me_. You hate me, don't you?” Alice has started to slide back in her seat, knocking it over when she finally gets off, and Connor sees her stress levels rising. Before she can get away, Todd grabs her underneath her arms and starts to shake her with more force than seems strictly necessary in the current situation. Or any situation.  
  
“SAY IT! YOU HATE ME!” Todd roars, face flushed red and Connor feels something in his programming...shift.  
  
_System Instability ^^_  
  
Tears being to fall on Alice's face–large, glass-like orbs of water that stream down her cheeks and drip down her chin. Todd stops, abruptly, as if waking from a dream, and he shakes his head, setting Alice back down on the ground.  
  
“ _God_ , _what am I doing?_ ” His voice is thick with unshed tears as he pulls Alice into a hug, “ _I'm sorry_ , honey. I'm sorry… I'm sorry…”  
He has started to sob silently, Alice still in his arms, “You know I love you, don't you?... You know I love you…"  
  
Alice slowly looks at Connor from over his shoulder, a question clear in her gaze–almost as if she's asking him what to do, and Connor can do nothing but stare back.  
  
He doesn't know what to do, and even if he did, Alice is not his mission.  
  
Another tear slides down her cheek.  
  
Connor turns around and goes to activate the vacuum cleaner.

  
  
∆∆∆  
  
**7 Days Until Mission Completion**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!!


	3. Scrambled Eggs and Toast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy!!  
> Next update will most likely be two weeks from now!!

**NOV** **16TH** , 2038  
**AM** 09:30:26

  
  
**CURRENT MISSION** : Stop Southwest Red Ice Operation  
  
**DELAYED MISSION** : Stop Markus  
  
**Main Objective** : Collect Evidence on Todd Williams  
  
**Side Objective** : Wake Todd Up

* * *

  
  
"Close those fucking curtains before I tear you apart, _piece by piece_ ," Todd's voice comes from deep in his throat, hoarse and growling from where he lies on his bed, and Connor immediately freezes, hands still grasping the drapes that frame the window loosely.  
  
"You informed me last night to awaken you at 9:30 AM, Todd. Is there a problem?" Connor asks even as he pulls the curtains shut, causing the room to fall into shadows once more as he drops his hands to his sides.  
  
"My problem is that you're still talking to me. Get out of my room."  
  
"Yes, Todd."  
  
"Now."  
  
The words ' _or else_ ' are heavily implied but Connor's already moving, about to exit the room when he decides to turn around and ask,  
  
"Are there any tasks you wish for me to complete while you rest?"  
  
Todd is tangled up in his sheets, face pressed into his pillow, and Connor's scanners inform him of the 96% chance that alcohol currently lingers in Todd's bloodstream. A homemade " _cure_ " for hangovers loads in the corner of his vision, the same one Connor brings in to Hank whenever the detective has a bad night and even worst morning.  
  
_Suggest?_  
  
"Just...go make breakfast and quit bothering me." He orders, words nearly unintelligible when spoken into his pillow but Connor's able to discern their meaning.  
  
"Yes, Todd." He pauses briefly, "My sensors suspect an elevated BAC, Todd. Shall I prep–"  
  
"No, what you should do is get out of my _fucking room!_ "  
  
Connor stops mid-sentence and closes his mouth. He opens it again,  
  
"Before I crush you like a tin can," Todd adds as if for good measure.  
  
"Yes, Todd." Connor decides to reply, his social module urging compliance.  
  
He exits promptly, closing the bedroom door quietly behind him. His housekeeping protocol runs itself immediately once he's in the hallway, alerting him to areas that require his attention which is, essentially, everywhere.  
The floor is cluttered with mismatched shoes and toys strew across the wooden boards, haphazardly; both bathrooms need to have their floors mopped and toiletries organized.  
  
He hadn't made it upstairs yesterday as a result of Todd ordering him to power down once his hockey game was finished.  
Unlike the androids sold in CyberLife stores who are instantly programmed to obey their owners the second the purchase is made official, Connor's own code does not compel nor require him to obey Todd. As a machine independent of all affiliations with the exception of CyberLife, he's only required to listen to Amanda and Lieutenant Anderson, and even then the latter's orders can be reprioritized if they conflict with his primary mission.  
  
Todd doesn't know that, of course, and it is crucial to his assignment that Todd _continues_ to believe that Connor is a simple android designed to obey and serve the needs of his household.  
  
Connor didn't want the operation going sideways just because he refused to act like a proper machine— _which he was_ —so he did as he was told and " _powered off_ " for the night, only to open his eyes 42 minutes later and begin compiling the data collected from his day into a new file labeled: _Operation_ **BLUE FLAME**.  
  
Connor blinks, anchoring himself to the present as he reads the stream of information provided to him by his scanners: Alice's door is closed so an environmental scan of her room is presently impossible. He'll have to look into that later.  
  
But first:

  
  
~~**Side Objective** : Wake Todd Up~~  
  
**New Objective** : Make Breakfast

  
  
The second floor will have to wait until then.  
  
He makes his way down the stairs, pausing to gather the toys and trinkets on the steps and set them aside somewhere someone will be unable to trip over them. Entering the kitchen, he wirelessly activates the vacuum cleaner for the day, its soft buzzing falling into a monotonous background hum as it works. The cupboards and fridge are worryingly bare, and suddenly the pizza boxes and Chinese takeouts from the day before make much more sense, but Connor manages to find what little he can to make a decent breakfast.  
  
As he works, he orders groceries from the local produce market and receives an immediate notification informing him of their ETA sometime later in the afternoon.  
  
He's setting the second plate down on the table when the soft patter of footsteps alerts him to the presence of another— _Alice_ , if he's calculating the weight being applied to the steps correctly, and he is.  
  
Clothed in pale pink pajamas with different woodland creatures printed on them, she holds her stuffed animal close to her chest, rubbing her eyes with her free hand.  
  
"Good morning, Alice." Connor greets, his face arranging itself into what CyberLife programmed to be a pleasant expression, "I hope you had a good night's sleep."  
  
She says nothing, dropping her hand from her face as she lingers near the staircase, and Connor runs her expression through his social module. She doesn't appear to be afraid of him, exactly, but she also doesn't seem completely at ease, keeping her toy between them as if it were a barrier between her and the world.  
  
"Your father hasn't informed me on what you usually eat so I made toast and scrambled eggs for the both of you. I hope that's okay?" Connor gestures at the plates on the table and... Nothing.  
  
No reply. Just a blank stare.  
  
Connor feels the peculiar urge to frown despite the lack of prompting from his social module, and he quickly smooths his expression, reigning in control.  
  
With the exception of Emma Phillips, Connor doesn't exactly interact with children in his line of work. They're different from adults—more unpredictable and less capable of reason; although, that appears to be the basic criteria for most human adults Connor deals with anyway, so maybe the comparison isn't factually correct.  
  
Children are... _young_ , clearly.  
They lack experience. They're... _innocent_ , Connor's internet search supplies. Innocent in ways an adult can't be even if they tried. Innocent in the way they see the world through a rose-colored glass tinted with double rainbow hues.  
  
While Alice's comfort isn't a major factor influencing the outcome of his investigation, her well-being is, and if he is to optimally care for her in the same manner of an AX Model Series Android, he needs to have as much data about Alice as possible. Data that will be considerably easier to gather if she trusts him.  
  
"You seem uncomfortable, Alice. I apologize if my presence makes you feel a certain way." Connor assumes a sincere expression to go with his words, his mouth softening into a gentle smile, because his dialogue prompts are less than promising, presenting him with options that all have success rates of 45% when it comes to getting Alice to sit at the table.  
  
"I'll leave if you want me to," he offers as an alternative, stepping away from the table, "All you have to do is nod or shake your head. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to."  
  
Another beat of silence before she shakes her head slowly, her shoulders loosening the smallest fraction, relaxing.  
She wants him to stay. That's good. Progress.  
  
"Okay. Here, then," he pulls the chair at the end of the table out, moving slowly in what he knows is a non-threatening manner, "Would you like to sit?"  
  
She stands so still that Connor is almost 88.9% sure that she won't come when she finally does move forward, perching gingerly on the edge of the chair as if she might need to flee at any second. Connor pushes her in, careful to apply the minimal force necessary as to not scratch up the already beaten-up floor that creaks underneath his feet.  
  
He lays a checked-red napkin in her lap, next, and reaches for the pitcher of orange juice in the center of the table.  
  
"Would you like some orange juice, Alice?" He offers.  
  
She nods again, and Connor pours the juice into her glass, filling it up to the recommended serving of someone her size and age.  
  
"Is there anything else you need?" He asks, and he sees it as a small accomplishment when she shakes her head slowly, eyes fixed on her food.  
  
"I'll be in the kitchen, then," He informs her, setting the pitcher back down, and clasping his hands behind his back, "Call me if you need anything."  
  
He turns around and starts to leave the dining room when:  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Connor freezes long enough to make sure his audio processor isn't malfunctioning and looks over his shoulder. Alice holds his gaze for a split second, brown eyes sending him an indecipherable message, before looking back down at her plate, and Connor feels something in his chest warm. A self-diagnostic runs itself automatically in the background of his processor, trying to locate the issue with his internal fans, as he retreats fully into the kitchen.  
  
"Your welcome, Alice."

∆∆∆  
  
**PM** 01:03:26  
  
"So, what do you think? You reckon this guy, this Todd Williams, has an in with the people running the operation?" Lieutenant Anderson asks, and Connor almost nods before remembering how out of place it will look to do so when there is no one else with him on Todd's porch.  
  
**{** _It's likely_ **}** , he vocalizes instead through the secure network linking him to the Lieutenant's case-assigned burner phone, **{** _The use of Red Ice in Corktown has spiked in the last five years, and Todd has all the prerequisites of a man addicted to the narcotic. Not to mention he was arrested four times in the past two months for drug possession._ **}**  
  
"Still," Hank insists for some reason, "What if we're wrong? What if he's some run-of-the-mill scumbag with no connection what so ever to the ones running the gig? What if..."  
  
Connor listens to the lieutenant's doubts patiently, moving the broom in his hands in a rhythmic sweeping motion across the rotting wood of the porch. There's something almost... _pleasent_ about the monotony of the action. It isn't the work he's built for or even prefers—not that he _has_ a preference. He is an android, after all, and while he isn't _capable_ of liking one thing more than another unless it somehow pertains to his investigation to act as such, the task at hand is more than bearable.  
  
Compared to the hectic operation set into motion by the DPD the day before, the Williams' household has an aura of calm about it that Connor currently uses to recalibrate or "find his footing," as Hank put it earlier when their conversation began.  
  
A little more than 24 hours later from the time that Todd brought him into his home, and Connor has already composed a file on the ill-tempered human. It's incomplete at the moment, a work in progress, but Connor is slowly but surely filling it with the information he gathers during his undercover stint as an AX700.  
There isn't much to report.  
  
Here's what he has so far:  
  
Todd is temperamental, volatile, and Connor suspects there's more at work than a Red Ice addiction.  
  
Prescription drugs, perhaps?  
  
His social module helps him assess the temperament and behavior of any given individual to best formulate a response; whether he stays serious or jokingly teases, if his words are soft-spoken or direct. Constantly adapting to the situation as CyberLife intended.  
  
With Todd, all of his dialogue prompts advise caution; he's instructed to remain complicit and docile in his mannerisms. His behavioral analysis program informs him that this human is always on edge, always one poke or prod or wrong sentence away from reacting in ways that are dangerous to both himself and the people around him.  
  
He says as much to Hank who snorts in response, ironic, "Yeah, well. That's where taking drugs gets you. You become a fuckin' bomb waiting to go off. He hasn't...um... _You know_."  
  
**{** _I usually do, but I'm at a lost here, Lieutenant. What do I know exactly?_ **}**  
  
" _Asshole_ ," the insult sounds fonder than usual, "I just wanted to know if he's hurt you."  
  
Connor puzzles over the question and its connotation. **{** _I'm an android, Lieutenant. I am not capable of feeling pain._ **}**  
  
"Just because you can't feel pain, doesn't mean someone can't hurt you." Hank sighs, tiredly, and Connor feels his mouth twitch despite the neutral state it's supposed to be in, "Addicts can be violent, Connor. Whether they mean to or not, they can end up hurting someone. I just want to make sure you're okay. If things get too hairy–"  
  
**{** _They haven't_ **}** , Connor interrupts, walking down the porch steps, **{** _And they won't. Todd is...unpredictable in some respects but he's still human. Every outcome can be anticipated and prepared for. And even if something of that magnitude were to happen, I have to accomplish my mission. No matter what._ **}**  
  
" _C'mon_ , _Connor!_ None of this self-sacrificing _bullshi_ –"  
  
**{** _I've failed too many missions in the past, Lieutenant. If I don't do this, CyberLife may find another reason to replace me with another model._ **}**  
  
"Fine," Hank sighs after a heavy beat of silence, "Do what you gotta do. Just...be careful, all right?"  
  
**{** _Lieutenant–_ **}** Connor begins to protest.  
  
" _Please_ , Connor? For my peace of mind?"  
  
_That doesn't matter to him, it shouldn't matter to him, why should he care if the lieutenant worries about him, he's not a person to worry about, to begin with, and_ –  
  
**{** _I'll try my best under the circumstances, Lieutenant_ **}** , Connor replies. Wonders why he replied a second later.  
  
"Good. Um," the Lieutenant clears his throat and Connor can almost visualize how uncomfortable the conversation has made him. He smiles in spite of himself, in spite of the neutrality that he's supposed to keep painted over his features when there are no humans around to watch him and therefore, no need to pretend to be human, and the strange warmth from before settles in his chest.  
  
"Learn anything worthwhile yet?"  
  
**{** _Unfortunately, not. The investigation will be underway once I've acclimatized to my environment._ **}**  
  
"English, please?" Hank asks and is quick to add, "And you know what I mean—keep it simple."  
  
**{** _In that case, not yet. Soon, Lieutenant._ **}**  
  
"Well, then. Good luck, Connor. I'll be waiting to hear from you."  
  
**{** _Thank you, Lieutenant. Have a good afternoon._ **}**  
  
∆∆∆  
  
The connection cuts with an inaudible click and Connor sets the broom against the door frame, surveying his progress in terms of the front yard. The grass is overgrown and the sidewalk, fractured in places—only one of those problems are simple enough for Connor to solve in the course of a week, and he makes a mental note to look for a lawnmower.  
  
He turns around and opens the front door into the house, quickly assessing what needs to be thrown away and cleaned in the dining area and living room as he closes the door behind him.  
  
Todd's coffee table is already cluttered with beer cans again, and it's worrisome considering how hungover he was this morning. Connor goes into the kitchen to grab the garbage can and collect them.  
As he works, clearing both table surfaces, his gaze falls on Alice who sits at the bay window with her toy, holding it up by its arms, she makes it move like it's dancing. He rounds the table to push in a chair and takes the opportunity to kneel in front of her.  
  
"That's a nice toy," he says, hoping to put her more at ease with his presence, "What's its name?"  
  
She looks down at him, eyes brightening the smallest bit even as she looks away and doesn't answer.  
  
Connor rises back to his feet and takes the trash can back into the kitchen, where he begins sorting through the groceries that had arrived earlier, placing them in their designated spots.  
As he works, his audio processor detects a soft hum originating from the dining area. He dismisses it as the vacuum, at first, programmed to activate every hour as per his instructions.  
  
His analysis program kicks in then, and–  
  
It's _Alice's_ voice, his systems correct him, increasing the sensitivity of his hearing so that her voice comes through clearer.  
  
Alice is... _singing_. Huh.  
  
The song she sings appears to be fabricated, Connor's database unable to find a match for it, and it's...  
  
It's nice.  
Her voice is nice, small and crystalline like colored glass, and Connor thinks, quite suddenly, _quite unexpectedly_ , that he could listen to her sing for hours on end.  
  
_System Instability ^^_  
  
"Alice, stop making all that noise," Todd growls from where he sits in front of the tv, his words just barely above a half-hearted grumble.  
  
Alice continues– _a 92% chance that she didn't hear him_ –singing about her fox's ballet shoes and the park and a beautiful unicorn–  
  
"Alice, _shut up!_ "  
  
Her song stops immediately, and Connor feels a sense of...loss?  
  
A second later and Alice is darting away from the dining area, scurrying up the stairs and out of sight. Her door slams.  
  
"Stupid, little girl. Always pushing me..." Todd reaches for the beer can on the coffee table as he speaks, downing its contents.  
  
Todd's nonsensical mumbles take a backseat in Connor's mind as he looks at the stairs, replaying the video/audio footage of Alice running up the stairs in his memory. Under closer scrutiny, he can see the beginning of tears welling up in her eyes, and that seems... _wrong_ , for some reason.  
  
Without thinking too much of it, Connor rounds the kitchen counter and approaches Todd.  
  
"I've finished up down here. I'm going to get started upstairs."  
  
"Do what you have to do but stop botherin’ me." Todd stares vacantly at the tv, and Connor wonders whether he truly cares who's winning the game, if he even knows who's playing, or if he simply needs a distraction.  
  
He nods his assent and makes his way up the stairs, telling himself that he's only going to Alice's room to check on the state of her living quarters. Nothing more, nothing less.  
He opens the door and sees her scramble up from the floor, darting underneath a fort that seems to be of her own making.  
  
“I just want to tidy your room a little. I only need two minutes. Is that okay, Alice?” Connor asks, lingering in her doorway.  
  
Alice says nothing so he enters and starts to tidy up. He makes her bed, smoothing the blankets out and fluffing the pillow before he opens the window, ventilating the room. He peers out the window, idly noting a possible escape route if the occasion demanded it.  
  
After he's gone over everything he could think of, he hesitantly approaches Alice, kneeling in front of the opening of her fort. Her brown eyes meet his for a second before darting away, and Connor notes the wetness staining her cheeks.  
  
_Diplomatic?_  
_Rational?_  
_Friendly?_  
  
"You...have a very lovely voice, Alice," Connor compliments with a small smile, "I hope I can hear you sing again one day."  
  
Alice gives him a look, long and searching, before returning to her toy, moving its arms halfheartedly.  
  
“You should tell me about yourself," Connor continues, "What you like to do, where you like to go, your favorite foods… that would really help me.”  
  
Alice bites her bottom lip like she wants to say something, anything, but again she doesn't, looking away.  
  
“You're very quiet,” Connor notes, careful to keep his voice open and friendly, "I hope I don't scare you."  
  
Alice jolts suddenly, crawling out of her fort and making a run for the door, and Connor almosts categorizes the conversation as a failure when she suddenly stops. She looks back at him, chocolate eyes far too conflicted for a child her age, and takes a couple steps forward, pushing something into his hand before exiting the room completely.  
  
Connor blinks, slightly startled by the outcome of this situation, and he looks down at his hand, eyeing the bronze key in his palm. He looks up and conducts an environmental scan, quickly locating the wooden chest on her dresser.  
  
He rises to his feet and walks forward, taking the box in his hands.  
_A.W. Treasures_ , it reads, and Connor's lips twitch in response to the heart stickers on the chest. He inserts the key and twists it, hears the locking mechanism click, and lifts the lid.  
  
The first thing he sees inside the chest is a dried four-leaf clover picked from the Corktown Public Park, and he pulls it out and puts it aside. He grabs a family photo next.  
  
Alice, her mother, and Todd.  
  
They look happy. Even Todd looks happy.  
  
He puts it aside as well, before picking up a couple sheets of paper. A frown tugs on the corner of his smile as he sifts through the drawings.  
  
The first depicts a crying girl with blood on her forehead, a dark ponytail pulled to the side.  
  
_Alice_ , Connor realizes.  
  
The second drawing is one of a scared Alice and an angry-looking Todd.  
  
In the third is another android, an AX400 from the style of her uniform, another angry Todd, and an Alice that seems distressed.  
  
Todd was...hitting ~~her~~ it. Todd was _hitting_ the android.  
  
His LED starts to blink a slow yellow as he puts the drawing aside and studies the last: a broken AX400, head and arm disconnected, thirium pooling beneath ~~her~~ it _it_.  
  
It doesn't matter, it shouldn't matter, but Connor's LED blinks red as he remembers Hank's words from earlier: 'Just because you can't feel pain, doesn't mean someone can't hurt you.'  
  
He _feels_ – **STOP**.  
  
He _thinks_ – **STOP**.  
  
He _knows_ he's fine.

 

He is. There's nothing wrong. Nothing at all. 

  
_System Instability ^^_

He tells himself this as he puts the items back into the box, closes the lid, and takes a step back.  
  
He's _fine_. He's _perfect_. He's a _machine_.  
Nothing but a machine designed to accomplish a task.  
  
" _Connor!_ "  
  
"Coming, Todd!" He answers, leaving the room and closing the door behind him.  
  
_He's fine._

  
  
∆∆∆  
  
**6 D4YS UNTIL M¡SSION C0MPL3TION**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question: If Alice is aware that she's an android, why did she draw herself with red blood instead of blue? Like...I get we're not supposed to know that she's an android until Crossroads but...still. It doesn't really make sense...
> 
> Tell me what you guys think, I'd love to know!
> 
> (And...Should Alice be an android or human?)

**Author's Note:**

> What do you guys think? Leave comments and kudos if you like!


End file.
